It's finally finished! Thank you to everyone who has supported this fic along the way, I sincerely hope that you enjoyed it!

As always, if you have any comments, critiques, ideas, prompts or opinions, then please feel free to leave a review and let me know!

Once again, thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Roman was leaning back against the headboard, barely having had the opportunity to let Sami's words sink in before he heard the soft beep of a key card unlocking the door. A flicker of confusion crossed Roman's face for the briefest of moments, until he remembered that Dean had taken the spare key with him when he'd left.

Dean.

Even in spite of Sami's advice and soothing tone, Roman's gut knotted so tight that he thought for a second he might actually be violently sick. Was he even ready to face the younger man? Could he really sit there and convince Dean that the whole thing had twisted out of Roman's control, that Roman truly hadn't meant to hurt him?

Roman's heart was thudding in his chest.

He didn't have an answer for the myriad of questions echoing around his head.

He'd always prided himself on his ability to read Dean like an open book, to punch through that constructed layer of mistrust and cool disinterest and find the true Dean hiding underneath it all. He'd always prided himself on being able to understand and care for Dean better than anyone else on this earth, to drag the scared and broken husk of a man and fit him into his own skin.

But then again, he'd always prided himself on never letting Dean down.

Roman's eyes were cast upwards, staring at the cobwebs and dirty marks on the ceiling like they were the most interesting things in the world, when the door to their shared room finally opened. Roman wasn't sure that he'd be able to look at Dean right then, to see the disgust and the pain splayed across the younger man's expression, so he didn't.

Yeah, so he was being a bit of a coward, but Roman genuinely had no idea what else he could do about it.

His eyes were still locked skyward when the door closed again.

Hi eyes were still locked skyward when he heard the soft padding of Dean's feet across the carpeted floor, the squeaking of the springs on the couch as Dean sat down, pulling his leather jacket tighter around himself.

His eyes were still locked skyward-

"Roman…"

-until the raw whisper of his name settling heavy between them both made Roman finally drop his gaze and spare a glance at the younger man.

And god, did he wish that he hadn't.

Dean was an absolute wreck.

Roman had never seen Dean look so devastated in all of the years that they had known each other. Sure, there had been the shared emotional pain of Seth's betrayal. There had been the empty resignation after Dean had come so goddamn close to grabbing those proverbial brass rings, only to be denied at the last second. There had even been the exposure exuded every time Roman and Dean had had a fight in the past; Dean always had a hard time shrugging off words and insults that had been screamed in the heat of the moment.

But this? This vulnerability? This bone deep agony? These crumbling walls that were falling to pieces faster than Dean could patch them up with his bare hands?

This was torture.

Roman ran a hand roughly through his hair, slumping back against the headboard as he regarded the younger man. Dean's eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, his cheeks stained with tears and his bottom lip bloody from too much biting. One of Dean's hands was wrapped around the curvature of his neck, his fingernails squeezing and scratching convulsively against the soft, sensitive flesh of his throat, and Roman's fingers twitched in his desire to stop Dean from damaging himself any further.

What struck Roman deepest though was the clouded anger and helplessness backlighting Dean's gaze. It was a sickening torrid of darkened colours that Roman immediately wished that he'd never have to see in his brother's eyes again, a look that he would do anything to erase.

"Well? You gonna say anything, or are you just gonna sit there and pretend nothing's wrong, huh?"

Roman winced as the vitriolic heat in Dean's sneer, his tone almost demanding a confrontation.

Roman knew that he couldn't rise to it though. If things descended into an argument this time, then there would be no way back for them.

But goddamn it, Roman still couldn't formulate any kind of response, any and all words dying on the tip of his tongue.

"Fine!" Dean pushed himself up with a burst of almost manic energy, his fingernails never leaving his throat as he started pacing the length of the couch, just out of Roman's reach.

"You don't wanna talk? Then I guess I'll start then."

Even despite the raw fury and antagonistic jeer tainting Dean's tone, it was impossible to ignore just how brittle and hollow it was, the way that Dean was trying to keep the wavering break out of his words as he finally came to a stop, staring holes through the older man.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you fucking tell me? You had plenty of opportunities! You could've told me at the pay-per-view, you could've told me after I'd won, hell, you could've fucking rang me and told me! Instead, I get a text. A fucking text man!"

Dean's words were becoming more and more frantic, finally cracking as Roman watched Dean raise a fist to his bloody mouth, trying and failing to swallow down the obvious lump in his throat.

Tears were prickling in Roman's eyes at the sight of Dean, his Dean, falling apart right before him, but Roman sat in silence. This was what Dean needed, to crash and burn and wear himself out before Roman could even think about piecing him back together.

But fuck, Roman wasn't sure how much more of this he could listen to.

Roman's quiet, however, only appeared to rile Dean up even more as the younger man grabbed and pulled at his own hair.

"I was so fucking happy," Dean's words were dangerously soft as tears once again began to run down his face. "I finally thought that winning the title would mean that I'd fucking have you back. You'd barely fucking acknowledged my existence for months man, like you were suddenly too good for me, like I wasn't enough! I was your family, your brother, and yet the second Wrestlemania was over, I was cast aside in favour of your fucking cousins! I thought that if I had the championship, then you'd start paying attention to me again, you'd realise just how much you fucking missed me and we could go back to the way things were, but I guess that was too much to goddamn ask, huh?"

Roman was stunned into shocked stillness, his eyes going wide at Dean's admission. Suddenly, Sami's story about Dean's breakdown after Wrestlemania made sense, fitted in with the timeframe of events that Roman could now start to recall.

He hadn't deliberately thrown Dean to the wayside after his title win. After all, he was a champion, and that meant whether he liked it or not that his list of priorities had had to adapt to fit that. He knew that he hadn't given as much time or attention to their relationship as he wanted, especially considering just how much Dean had given up to support Roman's endeavours, but he honestly hadn't thought that it would have this much of an effect on the younger man.

But then again, Roman thought bitterly, if he really cared for his brother, then he should have known just how badly Dean would have taken Roman's perceived lack of interest.

"Dean, I didn't… I…"

"This stupid belt is ruining my goddamn life, Roman. First, Seth turns on me, like everyone does. Then, you abandon me, like everyone else does. And now? Now, everything I thought I knew and loved and could rely on is fucking breaking apart! This fucking championship is cursed! I don't even fucking want it anymore if it means that it's going to carry on destroying everything I care about! I'm not even fit to be fucking champion, I'm always going to be some second-rate, worthless, unimportant-"

"Dean, that's enough!"

Dean instantly fell mute, frozen in place as Roman's words bounced around the room. Roman wouldn't have been surprised if he could've been heard on the other side of the hotel, but he needed to make Dean stop. For his own sanity as much as Dean's, he had to put an end to the litany of self-hatred that Dean was attacking himself with.

"That… That's enough."

Dean hadn't moved an inch, the only sign that he was still even alive being how Dean's eyes slipped shut, the tension bleeding out of his every limb.

Taking a deep, shuddery breath, Roman leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees loosely.

"Can you just… come over here and sit down? Let me explain?"

Dean showed no sign that he'd heard Roman's meek request.

"Please? Babe?"

Dean winced, tears dripping from the end of his chin and falling to the floor as he shook his head childishly, the tremor working its way back into his small frame.

Roman knew that he was treading a very fine line, and there was a part of him that felt nauseous at using their term of affection to deliberately try and catch Dean's attention, but Roman was at a loss as to what else he could do.

He knew that Dean was shutting himself off, was getting too far into his own head, and that was something Roman was desperate to avoid. Dean was his own worst enemy. Dean could do more damage to himself physically and emotionally than anything Roman could ever think of doing. That was just a part of who Dean was, and Roman had grown to accept it, to work around it, to try and silence the memories and abuse before they swallowed Dean whole. They were the foundations upon which Dean had built a lifetime of walls and boundaries to protect himself, and Roman cursed himself for even touching that unshakeable belief.

Taking a deep sigh, Roman bit down on his lip nervously as he bent forward and reached out his hand, brushing his fingers feather-soft against Dean's wrist.

Dean flinched. He fucking flinched.

And Roman could feel his heart breaking just a little bit more.

Trying not to be perturbed, Roman silently did it again. And again. His fingertips were tracing delicate patterns against Dean's skin, feeling how the younger man's pulse was racing with every touch. Dean was considerably more receptive to physical displays of trust and affection than he was any words, and even this small thing seemed to be working when Dean finally stopped twitching away at every pass.

Eventually, Dean's eyes opened again.

The poisonous anger and loathing in Dean's gaze had all but dissipated, replaced instead with such a raw and intense vulnerability that it made Roman want to wrap his arms around Dean and never let go.

It was painful to watch, any and all words sticking in the back of Roman's throat. If it hurt for him, then god knew just how much agony Dean was feeling, his entire being cracked open like an egg and on display for the world.

Gently curling his palm in a loose grip around Dean's wrist, Roman felt encouraged when Dean finally responded, moving slowly to sit on the bed next to Roman, their poses mirrored.

Dean wasn't looking at him, but he didn't shrug Roman away either when Roman tentatively entwined their hands between them, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

It was startling just how quickly Dean had gone from violently attacking Roman and himself to this still too quiet figure perched next to him, but it was progress nonetheless. Roman wasn't even aware that he'd instinctively turned his upper body to brace against Dean's injured shoulder, the gesture symbolic even with the actual distance between them.

"I never meant to hurt you, not even for a second. You do believe me on that, right?"

Dean curled himself up into as tight a ball as he could manage as he rested his chin on his knees, shrugging noncommittedly as he continued staring at a fixed point on the opposite side of the room.

That stung.

"Yeah, I deserve that. I should have realised so much sooner just how shitty I was being, but honestly, I was blinded by the gold and all the stuff that goes with it. I can't sugar coat it or spin it in any other way, I lost track of what was actually important to me. Which is you. It always has been you, and it always will be you. And I'm sorry for not telling you that sooner. I'm sorry for not realising just how much you were spiralling after Wrestlemania – and before you get annoyed at Sami, I basically dragged it out of him – and I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me."

Taking a chance, Roman lifted their intertwined hands and placed a gentle kiss on Dean's red and split knuckles; he wasn't sure when Dean had scrapped his hand up, probably somewhere between leaving and coming back, but that wasn't of immediate importance right now. Rubbing his thumb across them tenderly, Roman almost missed the soft sounds that left Dean's mouth.

"I get that. Gold on the brain. Wanting to prove everyone wrong about you. Prove you were the top dog. Both needed a little bit of space to deal with all the shit after that, y'know?"

A bitter chuckle left Dean's lips as he – finally – turned to face Roman.

"I just let my imagination get away from me a little bit, you know what I'm like."

Roman wouldn't so much call it Dean's imagination as he would Dean's crippling insecurities, but he knew that right now wasn't the time to call him out on it as much as he would've liked to. There was another day for that fight; right now, this was fighting to save everything they had together.

"I know, but that's no excuses for my actions," Roman stated tightly, brokering no argument. "I own those mistakes as much as I own my current ones."

Dean flinched again, trying to pull his hand away from Roman's as his eyes flickered down to the floor, but Roman held firm, refusing to allow Dean to close himself off again.

"I should have told you when I found out. I should have had the decency to tell you to your face like a man, the way you deserved to find out. The fact that you found out from fucking gossip reels and blogs just…"

Roman took a deep breath, trying to will away the lump in his throat as his fingers trembled between Dean's.

"That was shitty of me."

Roman almost missed Dean's flatly murmured 'you can say that again…', but it brought a brief, sad smile to his face.

"I fucked up, and yeah, I was worried about how it would reflect on me first and foremost. There's enough people out there who don't like me that my immediate concern was damage control, but we've both seen how that worked out."

Dean gave an irritated huff, but Roman couldn't mistake the tightening around his fingers. As much as Dean would deny it, his shell was being broken down a piece at a time by Roman's gentle words.

"Again, that was shitty of me. But I've made my bed, and now I've got to lie in it. The entire onus of this thing is on me, and by association, you've gotten caught up in this mess, which is the absolute last thing I wanted."

Dean gave another huff. "Co-dependence." When Roman raised his eyebrow, Dean glanced away. "I went to talk to Seth. He said we're too co-dependent. One fucks up, we both fuck up."

It shouldn't have surprised Roman that Dean would go and hunt out someone to talk to about this whole debacle, but Seth? That was a little bit out of right field, especially considering the depth of the history between the two men. But then again, if it meant that Dean could clear his head, he couldn't really complain.

"Well, I guess that Seth is right about something for once in his life, but that doesn't mean it's the truth. I mean, you've been champion for what, 2 days? And you've already proven to the world how much you deserve to be there."

Dean's face fell.

"I'm only champion because you had to dro-"

"You're the champion because you earned it! For the last three years you've been scratching and clawing and proving just how incredible you are, even if the fans only get the half of it. Think about it, management could've decided to keep the belt on Seth. They could've had someone else go over in the ladder match. They could've done so many things, Dean, and yet they gave the championship to you because they knew you deserved it."

Roman reached up with his free hand, consequences be damned as he cradled Dean's cheek, forcing the younger man to turn and look at him.

"That belt changes people. It hurts to say it, but it's the truth. It changed Seth, and it changed me. But you are stronger than that championship. You are stronger than all of the current shit going around right now. Dean Ambrose ain't for changing, no matter what happens, and that's what I love most about you. You will never make the same kind of mistakes that I have. You will never let that belt get in the way of those you love and care about, and I am so unbelievably proud of that. I'm proud of you."

Roman's tone was thick with emotion as he paused, feeling the tears budding in the corners of his eyes again.

"So, here's how we deal with this mess, okay?"

Dean nodded his head briefly, too dumbstruck to do anything else.

"I deal with my mistakes. I deal with all of the shit coming my way because it's my fault that I screwed up. You, you be the best fucking champion this company has ever seen, alright?"

Dean looked as if he was going to protest, his eyes wide and filled with uncertainty, but Roman cut him off, surging forward to plant his lips against Dean's.

Dean all but instinctively melted into Roman, reaching up with his free hand to tangle his fingers into Roman's hair, pulling it away from the older man's face. It wasn't a fierce clash of teeth and fire and dominance, it wasn't a competition as their lips moulded to each other's, it was one of the softest kisses they'd ever actually shared in all of their years together.

It built slowly, heat unfurling in Roman's gut as he ran the tip of his tongue across Dean's swollen bottom lip, begging for an admittance that Dean couldn't deny. Roman could taste the coppery tang of blood, the saltiness of sweat as he challenged for purchase against Dean's mouth, but there was also that distinct taste of Dean. It was heady and addictive, and as Dean gave the quietest whimper, his grip on Roman's hair briefly tightening, Roman struggled to pull away.

Dean licked his lips tentatively, and Roman could almost feel his restraint snapping, his eyes fixed to the movement, but he cleared his throat gently. He wasn't naïve enough to think that one kiss would magically repair weeks of trouble; there was still a cloudy mistrust and guarded nature to Dean's stare, one that Roman would take an age to erase, but it felt like something.

"Besides, as Sami told me, phones and Skype exist for a reason. Just because I'm off the cards for a few weeks doesn't mean that we can't see each other. The second you need me, just say the word and I will be on the next flight or highway straight to you, okay? Just because I'm not here doesn't mean that I'm going to abandon you, not again."

Dean gave a faint smile, his eyes watery and his face flushed.

"Okay."

"Good, now c'mere…"

Roman gave no warning before he all but pulled Dean into his lap, the younger man giving a small yelp of surprise as he buried his face into the side of Roman's neck. Roman wrapped his arms as tight as he physically could around Dean, pressing against him; Dean briefly struggled before the tension in his body finally drained.

Before Dean was even aware of what was happening to him, he was sobbing against Roman's throat, his tears soaking into Roman's shirt as Roman pressed tender kisses to every part of Dean's bare skin that he could reach. Dean's final walls had been breached, his emotions flooding out, but Roman knew that this was needed.

This was that first step in making everything right again.

Yes, Roman thought fleetingly, this was definitely fixable.

***Epilogues***

The final credits were rolling, flashes of light flickering across the otherwise darkened hotel room, but neither man could be bothered to move or turn the television off.

If Sami didn't know any better, he would've said that Kevin was already asleep.

Not that that bothered Sami of course.

Both men were bundled beneath the bed covers, the duvets pulled up across their naked waists. Sami's head was resting against the broad expanse of Kevin's shoulder, his arms draped loosely across the older man's chest. Kevin – as he was always prone to do – almost had Sami in a bear hug, Sami tight and secure against his side, Kevin's hands both resting on Sami's bare hip. It was a protective, almost possessive stance, but Sami loved it.

Not that he'd ever admit it outright to Kevin's face; he'd never live it down.

Rolling over just enough to bury his face in the curve of Kevin's neck, Sami started pressing a wet line of kisses along the length of Kevin's throat, his lips briefly pausing against Kevin's throbbing pulse point. A flicker of a grin crossed his face when he felt more than heard Kevin beginning to stir, Kevin's large hands beginning to stroke the sensitive groove of Sami's hip and upper thigh.

"Sami…" Kevin whined sleepily, a sound he would deny ever making until his dying breath. "I'm trying to sleep sweetheart…"

Kevin's continued groping and light scratching as his talented fingers started straying into the crease between Sami's thigh and groin emphatically told Sami otherwise.

In fact, if it wasn't for the sound of Sami's phone vibrating on the bedside cabinet, then Sami was completely convinced that Kevin's tune would have definitely changed.

Giving a groan, Sami rolled over and grabbed his phone, grinning as he felt Kevin curl himself around his back, his beard scratching against the back of Sami's shoulder as he gave a teasing bite to the meat there, soothing the slight sting with a lave of his tongue.

Message received 03:42

Thank you – R.

Message received 03:44

Also, Dean said can you teach him how to Skype? – R.

Sami gave a soft huff of amusement as he put his phone back down on the cabinet, giving a full body shudder as Kevin continued his ministrations across Sami's shoulder blade, slowly mouthing his way up Sami's neck to pause behind his ear.

"They good?"

Sami smiled warmly, a rush of relief warming through him as he pushed back against Kevin, subtly rolling his hips.

"Yeah, they're good…"

xxx

"For the fucking love of all that's fucking holy, what do I have to do around here to get a fucking decent sleep?!"

Seth rolled over, pawing for his phone on the side; after Ambrose's impromptu visit earlier, Seth wasn't sure he was in the mood for any more games, especially considering that it was nearly 4am and he still hadn't managed any sleep.

"Stupid fucking Ambrose with his stupid fucking face and his stupid fucking whining and ugh, why can't he get out of my life already?!"

Seth's tone was murderous, the vibrations from his phone rattling around his skull like an angry hornet, and goddamn it why couldn't he get a goddamn break?!

Huffing in frustration as he grabbed his phone, Seth flinched at the brightness of his screen, the sudden stream of light making his head thump.

This wasn't his night.

He gave a curse as he knocked in the unlock code, barely paying any glance to the home screen image like he usually would. No, he'd already seen enough of Ambrose today, he didn't need to see that stupid grin mocking him.

Message received 03:49

Thank you – R.

Just as Seth was about to throw his phone across the room – after all, why couldn't Roman wait until morning to text him, or hell, to talk to him face to face? – it vibrated again, a number flicking across the screen that made Seth's heart briefly skip a beat in his chest.

Message received 03:53

i owe u

Dropping the phone onto the side with more force than he needed to, Seth bit down hard on his clenched fist, resisting the urge to scream. It was pointless though. Even those 3 little words, grammatically atrocious and really rather pointless, were enough to make Seth ache.

Rolling over, Seth roughly yanked the covers all the way over his head, burying his face in his pillow as he tried to fall asleep again, knowing that it was going to be an even longer night than he thought possible.

That Dean fucking Ambrose.